


Three Hours

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cunnilingus, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Trans Oikawa Tooru, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6656281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to feel your name burning on my skin for days.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Hours

**Author's Note:**

> There isn’t enough trans Tooru out there, and I’m here to change that : )

It starts slow, it always does; Tooru asks Hajime whether he wants to come over, his parents are going out for dinner, and Hajime complies, and then they play video games or do homework until one of them becomes sick of stolen glances and tentative touches and simply reaches out, kissing the other, and then they fall back onto the mattress. 

Tooru is spread beneath him, back arched towards him, and Hajime shifts his hips upwards, fitting far too easily between Tooru’s legs. There’s this low, burning sensation sparking deep inside Hajime’s stomach and chest, warmth spreading up to his chest and along his arms, draining into his veins and fingertips until all he can think about is _Tooru, Tooru,_ ** _Tooru--_** and his long legs, smooth and pale, his neck, clean like a sleek sheet of marble, though not for long, as Hajime is already marking it with sharp kisses and teeth.

“I want to feel your name burning on my skin for days,” Tooru tells him, scratching at his scalp, down his neck, across his shoulders, along his arms, and he groans softly in response. 

He feels more than hears Tooru’s bone shattering shaky exhale, and Tooru’s grip on his tightens as Hajime’s fingers trail up and down Tooru’s ribs while sucking a mark on the side of his neck. He moves further down, then, biting at Tooru’s sharp collarbone, and shifting a little to press his palms up under the hem of Tooru’s shirt, flesh warm against his callused hands. Tooru’s fingers card through Hajime’s hair, down to his neck, and he pulled him up towards his face until he was staring into Hajime’s eyes, glossed over with need and desire. His breath, warm and heavy, fans over Hajime’s jaw and lips, and they inhaled the same oxygen, for a while, a steady force between them. It feels as though Hajime were the air Tooru desperately needed, and he breaths him in, took it all in, mouth parted, until they were millimetres apart.

Hajime surges forward, then, and kisses Tooru’s open mouth, teeth clinking against each other as Tooru presses towards him. He tilts his head, then, angling his lip, and massaging his tongue against Hajime’s. It feels bruising, in a way, and entirely toxicating, the way Tooru’s breathing heavily, now, heaving with desperation in a shattering manner. Hajime groans into the kiss, rolling his tongue over Tooru’s until he’s sure he isn’t even breathing, at this point. He pulls back, slowly, and Tooru’s eyes are closed, dark lashes fluttering over his pale skin. Hajime can see the veins dashed over his eyelids, and he brushes his lips over them in an unconscious movement. All he could think about was Tooru, and how it feels far too good to be this close to him. He needs nothing more other than feeling Tooru’s soft skin beneath his fingertips and hearing his gasping breath, fanning over his jaw. 

Hajime’s lips trail lower, then, kissing along the side of Tooru’s face. He draws some nonsense patterns against Tooru’s bare ribs, slides his palm along his abdomen until Tooru’s positively shaking with anticipation, eyes closed and head tilted backwards. His mouth is open, breath coming quick, and Hajime stares up at with nothing but pride-- since it’s only Hajime who gets to see him like this, it’s only Hajime who gets Tooru all hot and bothered-- and desire-- he’s beautiful, really and otherworldly and transcendent-- and pure, brute love. Hajime’s hands are shaking, though he can’t bring himself to care, not when Tooru is like this. 

He draws back a little to look down at him, taking it all in, and Tooru opens his eyes at the sudden loss of his warm touch,  his soft lips. He stares up into Hajime’s eyes. No words are spoken, but that isn’t needed, not anymore; they know each far too well at this point. 

Tooru surges forward, then, with desperation, and holds onto Hajime as though he were his salvation. Hajime bites into Tooru’s mouth, at his lower lip, and Tooru moans, lowly, falling deeper into the mattress and pressing Hajime closer to him. It’s almost suffocating, their proximity, and suddenly, Hajime feels far too warm all over, his ribcage too small to contain his beating heart. Tooru’s chest rattles against his, too, and Hajime draws back to pull off his shirt in a hasty movement, then his sweatpants, until he’s sitting back in Tooru’s lap, hunched over him only his boxers. 

Tooru exhales shakily, and Hajime understands-- he always does-- and presses his palms up underneath Tooru’s t-shirt-- which was Hajime’s, truthfully, he’d stolen it long ago-- trailing his fingers along the grooves of Tooru’s abdomen and ribcage until he can feel the smooth expanse of his shoulderblades. He retreats then-- he knows what Tooru’s comfortable with, his shirt always stays on when they do things like this-- and Tooru arches his back accordingly as Hajime’s fingers press against Tooru’s hipbones, slipping underneath the waistband of his drawstring shorts, red and white and far too short for Hajime to keep his composure. 

Hajime breathes heavily into the crook of Tooru’s neck as Tooru lifts his hips and lets Hajime pull them down, slowly, along with his underwear. Hajime lets his fingers trail along Tooru’s legs, smooth and soft and lean, as his body moves down along Tooru’s form. Tooru’s arms drop from their hold on Hajime’s shoulders, and his hands fist into the bedsheets. He’s positively gasping now, completely breathless as Hajime presses open-mouthed kisses to the inside of Tooru’s knees and thighs, his fingers wrapped around Tooru’s ankle. Tooru throws his head backwards as Hajime discards Tooru’s clothing haphazardly over his right shoulder. 

They land on the floor somewhere and Tooru can’t bring himself to care as Hajime’s mouth is pressed against his hipbone, now, sucking a mark, and then he trails back downwards to his inner thigh, biting into the soft skin, pungent and salty from the thin coat of Tooru’s sweat, as it’s summer, too, and the windows are open-- with the curtains drawn-- in an effort to escape the heat. A breeze blows through the room, and twists the white curtains upwards towards the ceiling of Tooru’s bedroom, then ripples over the linoleum floor, making a shadow as the wind does on the sea.

There are goosebumps over Tooru’s skin, and he’s trembling, now, as Hajime presses his palm against his pussy, fingers pushing ever so slightly against the wet and flushed flesh. Tooru makes some sort of strangled noise and he grips tightly on the bed sheets beneath him, his knuckles white. Hajime kisses at the juncture of his hips and legs, and trails his mouth towards as his hand moves up and down, stroking slowly, teasingly, and spreading the moisture across. Tooru’s hips thrust upwards towards Hajime’s far too gentle touch, and Hajime complies, pressing against the hood of Tooru’s clitoris, kissing it softly with his open mouth.

Tooru’s breath is shattering, and it echoes against the walls of the room; the only sounds he can hear are his own heartbeat and breathless gasps and Hajime’s low moans. Hajime licks at Tooru’s clitoris with broad strokes, steadily and with stealth, composure, even; it’s not rushed. 

Tooru chokes on a moan as he feels Hajime’s finger press into him, just one, at first. He thrusts it in a out, hooking it in the way that makes Tooru’s back arch and body shiver, until he can feel Tooru gasping for more. He adds a second one, then, still flicking his tongue along Tooru’s soft and wet flesh, creating these obscene noises that Tooru always basks in, when they’re like this. 

“Hajime,” he breathes, “Oh,  _ God--  _ Hajime,  _ Hajime _ ,”

Hajime’s speeds up, then, forcing his fingers out and in of Tooru’s pulsating, warm and wet hole faster, pressing them upwards until Tooru could hear his pulse ring in his ears, eyes firmly shut. His vision goes white, and his mouth is gaping open-- perhaps he’s screaming, he can’t tell-- as Hajime’s lips close around his clit, sucking at the tender flesh.

“Fuck,” Tooru rasps, “ _ Hajime _ \--”

He’s pushed over the edge, then, as he feels Hajime moan against his skin, his body shaking and trembling as Tooru goes tense, gasping until he released over Hajime’s fingers, sucking them in. He’s pulled under a crashing wave of heat, and his back arches as he moans, cries Hajime’s name.

Hajime swore softly, and Tooru could see his body jerking as he slowly opened his eyes and forces his breath to slow down, chest still heaving. As his body goes slack, Hajime pulls his fingers out. Tooru looks down at Hajime’s flushed cheeks and moist lips, shuddering breath escaping them. 

Tooru pulls him towards him, then, wrapping his fingers around the back of Hajime’s neck, and kisses him on his open mouth, running his other hand down Hajime’s chest, toned and warm and slick with sweat. Hajime gasps against him, rutting towards him as he slips his hand underneath Hajime’s boxers, gripping his leaking shaft with his slim fingers. He strokes it, once or twice, fully, and Hajime arches towards him until he comes over his hand, swearing softly. His vision blurs as Tooru presses his tongue against Hajime’s, and he buckles his hips to ride that electric wave, Tooru’s touch coaxing him with final vestiges, until Hajime stills and pulls away.

He brushes his thumb over Tooru’s flushed cheekbone, the other drawing a pattern on his hip bone, and he’s grinning down at Tooru lazily with such fondness in his eyes that Tooru swore he could simply melt into the mattress. He smiles back gently. The sunlight streamed through the windows, and he was so beautiful lying here in Hajime’s arms that Hajime could have died happily, at this point. It illuminates the skin on his neck and shoulders, at the collar of his t-shirt, and creating this halo around his head. 

Hajime kisses him again, then, and Tooru sighs into it, for they may only have three hours today, but they’ve still got infinity ahead of them. 


End file.
